


Valentine's Day

by cozywilde, d20crunch



Series: Even More D&D [9]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, Collars, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dinner, Gift Giving, Hand Feeding, Insecurity, Kissing, Leather Kink, M/M, Praise Kink, Puppy Play, Rimming, Romance, Sappy, Sexual Roleplay, Teasing, Valentine's Day, happy crying, old tired gay dads in love, soft dom, very light though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-26 00:48:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17735843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cozywilde/pseuds/cozywilde, https://archiveofourown.org/users/d20crunch/pseuds/d20crunch
Summary: This Valentine's Day, Cyrus and Quinn express their feelings for each other over a lovely dinner... along with some unexpectedly coordinated gifts.





	Valentine's Day

**Author's Note:**

> Featuring [Cyrus](https://toyhou.se/3870644.cyrus), a big built bartender, and his boyfriend Quinn, the softest sweetest florist you will ever meet. They are both tired old dads with a lot of baggage from previous relationships, but they're in LOVE and they're HEALING together!!

Straightening his shirt collar, Quinn regards himself in the mirror. Not bad, honestly - the pink of his shirt looks soft and touchable, a perfect match to the flowered patterns on his vest. His pants are neat, his belt buckle gleaming in the low light. Still, running a hand through his hair and squinting at his reflection, Quinn feels like he’s forgotten something... oh, his hair! He pulls it up into a secure ponytail, making sure it’s brushed sleek and shiny.

He wants this date to be perfect - it’s Valentine’s, after all, and he’ll have the whole evening to spend with Cyrus. A wonderful dinner at Quinn’s favorite restaurant, holding hands across the table, and when the moment is right... his eyes drift to the box resting on his bed, its wrapping conspicuous against the pale sheets. Well, probably best not to let Cyrus open it at the restaurant. Quinn can feel himself flushing - gods, he shouldn’t be so embarrassed, he’s _pretty_ sure Cyrus will appreciate the present... but there’s just no way to be sure. Maybe he shouldn’t after all...

Distracted by his thoughts, Quinn almost doesn’t hear the knock at his door, belatedly calling “Come in, love, it’s open!” He tosses his jacket on the bed in a fit of nerves at the last moment, mostly covering the box as he turns to the door with a genuinely welcoming smile.  
  
“Well, don’t you look handsome,” Cyrus says, an actual smile curling his lips as he shuts the bedroom door behind him. “Love those colors on you.”

His own black suit and tie is a stark contrast to the soft pastels of Quinn’s outfit, but somehow the two complement each other in the best way, making the black sharper and the floral pattern more bright. Quinn quickly notices how askew his tie is, and Cyrus can’t help smirking as he watches him sigh.

“Sweetheart,” Quinn says in his long-suffering way, striding over to start straightening Cyrus’ tie.

“Oh, is it too loose?” Cyrus says innocently, shrugging with one arm while the other stays hidden behind his back. “Gosh, that’s just awful. I guess you’ll have to ... tighten it for me.”

Quinn doesn’t miss the playful glint in his eye, well-accustomed to his boy’s antics. He takes his time smoothing out the creases in Cyrus’ crisp shirt collar - _did he pay someone to prestidigitate it?_ \- and running over the material of the tie, finally starting to untie it so it can be redone.

As Quinn tugs the material through the very hasty knots, Cyrus grandly pulls his arm from behind himself to show the package balanced on his hand. It’s rather immaculately wrapped in delicate pink paper, and before Quinn can ask Cyrus says, “I had the guy at the shop wrap it for me. You know I’d just do six layers of tape and call it a day.” Cyrus leans up slightly to press a sweet kiss to Quinn’s lips, briefly distracting him undoing the tie. “Since you’re already undressing me... you want your present now or later?”  
  
“Undressing?” Quinn laughs softly, letting the now-unknotted tie hang loose around Cyrus’ neck, absently smoothing the fabric against Cyrus’ chest. “So it’s that kind of present, is it?” Quinn’s eyes flick to the closed door, and Cyrus’ smirk when he looks back again is all the answer he needs. _Oh, he thought it was going to be that easy, did he?_ “Actually, I think... you should open your present first.” Quinn takes the loose ends of the tie in hand and tugs Cyrus towards the bed. There’s only the barest moment of resistance before Cyrus goes along with him, undeniable interest sparking in his eyes - though Cyrus does stay just a half-step too far back, the tie’s fabric pulling taut between them.

Quinn nudges his jacket aside and sits, relinquishing his hold on Cyrus’ tie. Cyrus sways just the slightest bit as he does, apparently not anticipating being let go so soon. “Sit, dear,” Quinn says, patting the bed next to him. Cyrus does, setting his present for Quinn at his side. Quinn sets his own gift in Cyrus’ lap, sliding an arm around him and resting his head on his shoulder, suddenly nervous to meet his eyes. “Go on love, open it,” he urges, watching eagerly as Cyrus’ fingers brush over the ribbon.

Cyrus shakes the box slightly, pressing it to his ear to listen to the rattle. "It better not be those fancy whiskey glasses again, I broke a half dozen of them within the week," he grumbles, but the excitement in his voice tempers any annoyance. He tries to be delicate for the barest moment, wanting to preserve and appreciate the intricate wrapping and decorations Quinn put on the gift, but it doesn't take long for his resolve to break and end up just tearing into the paper.

He makes a curious sound as he studies the white box underneath, recognizing the black seal printed on top and glancing at his own present for Quinn. "Did you...?" he murmurs, voice barely more than a whisper as he fights to control his giddiness. He tosses off the top of the box, eagerly flinging the dark tissue paper in the air as he digs in. His breath catches as his fingers finally meet the soft leather, running over the curves of the collar and the smooth metal of the buckle.

" _Fuck_ , Quinn," Cyrus breathes, almost a whine with how excited he is. "This is... oh gods, I thought you'd never let me have one." He turns to press sloppy kisses to Quinn's flushed cheek, rumbling "Please let me wear it love, I'll be so good for you-” before he seems to suddenly remember his own present. He snatches it from its spot next to him and holds it up with a flourish. "They go together. Guess we both had the same thing on our mind."

“Oh?” Quinn asks, still flushed with happiness at Cyrus’ excitement. He takes the box from Cyrus carefully, weighing it in his hands. It’s heavier than it looks, and he starts to gently peel away the tape as Cyrus makes a noise of impatience next to him - though it’s not nearly as grumpy as he normally sounds, with his fingers still rubbing over the soft leather of the collar. “I don’t want to tear the paper, it’s so lovely,” Quinn says, voice hushed with his own excitement. “Be patient, love.”

He manages to peel away the soft pink wrapping in one piece, a shiver running through him as he sees the box - it is indeed a match to the one he’d given Cyrus. Quinn eases off the top, gasping quietly as he sees the neatly folded collection of leather straps and buckles. “Is this...?” Quinn says, lifting it from the box.

The shape of it is a little more clear held up, quickly confirmed by Cyrus’ rumble of “A shoulder harness? Yeah.” Cyrus’ arm squeezes tight around Quinn’s waist, warm and close.

“Oh, Cyrus... for _me_?” If possible, Quinn flushes even deeper, tracing the lines of the straps. “You’d... have to help me put it on, I’m not really sure how to...” Overcome with affection, Quinn turns and kisses Cyrus hard, the straps of the harness still tangled in his hands as he presses them against Cyrus’ chest.

After a moment Quinn breaks away, gasping but steadied by the familiar feeling of Cyrus’ slow, intense kisses. “But how could I forget, we have a reservation,” Quinn says, straightening up with a soft smirk. As Cyrus blinks - probably attempting to process the abrupt shift in the conversation - Quinn reaches over and quickly ties a neat knot in Cyrus’ tie, tight but likely not as tight as Cyrus would really like. “Come on, love, let’s go to dinner. Our presents will be waiting for us when we’re done.” Quinn smooths Cyrus’ tie against his chest, standing and holding out an expectant hand for Cyrus to take.  
  
“ _Seriously_?” Cyrus growls indignantly, taking Quinn’s hand but using it to tug him closer again. “We’ll just be late to dinner, so what?”

Quinn allows himself to be pulled into the circle of Cyrus’ arms, looking up at him from where he sits on the bed with a gaze so heated Quinn can almost feel its intensity. “That’s not very considerate,” Quinn chastises him, to which Cyrus quickly huffs a reply of “ _fuck_ being considerate” before boldly sliding one of his hands up Quinn’s thigh to start plucking at his belt buckle.

Quinn hums in his scolding way, gently nudging Cyrus’ hands away from his clothing. “ _Babe_ ,” Cyrus rumbles, obediently dropping his hands from Quinn’s body and letting them clench in the sheets instead. Quinn just shakes his head, absolutely merciless as he steps away again to head to the door.

With an annoyed but thoroughly resigned huff, Cyrus rises to his feet with a last longing look at the leather spread out on the bed. “These fancy pants really don’t hide how hot I am for you babe, maybe you should... take care of that before we go out in public.” He twines his fingers with Quinn’s again, expression hopeful but fully aware it’s a long shot. Quinn was never a merciful man.

Quinn laughs. “Oh, absolutely not. We’d still be late, and I hardly see how that would convince me you deserve such a lovely reward once we came back.” Quinn nods to the bed, a little smile pulling at his lips. “No, you’ll just have to show me how good you can be for me during our nice, romantic dinner, even if you are a little wound up.” Quinn leans over to press a soft kiss to Cyrus’ cheek, squeezing Cyrus’ hand as he leads him out of the shop - quickly checking that the “closed” sign is in place - and down the street towards the restaurant.

The owner recognizes Quinn as they approach, ushering them over to a table and handing them menus. “Enjoy, gentlemen,” she says, leaving them to peruse their options.

Quinn picks up the menu in one hand, the other reaching across the table to take Cyrus’ again. His thumb rubs absently over the back of Cyrus’ hand as he scans the menu. “Oh, they have a Valentine’s special... we each choose an appetizer and entree and then share a chocolate fondue for dessert.” Quinn glances up at Cyrus, smiling sweetly even as he considers just how naughty Cyrus might get when tempted by molten chocolate. “How would you like that, love?”

Cyrus squeezes Quinn’s hand, huffing out another annoyed breath. “Now you’re just poking the bear,” he grumbles, nudging Quinn’s foot under the table. “You really think I’ll be able to resist dragging you into the restroom when you’re no doubt being all sexy with chocolate?”

Quinn raises his eyebrows, daring Cyrus with his expression to do anything that goes against his orders. “You’ll sit here like a good boy and enjoy our romantic dinner,” Quinn reminds him patiently, soothingly brushing the back of Cyrus’ hand until the tense grip relaxes slightly.

“Fine... let’s do your Valentine’s special,” Cyrus mumbles, lifting their twined fingers to nuzzle against Quinn’s hand. Stupid table in the way, can’t just press up against Quinn like he desperately wants to, so nuzzling his hand will just have to do.

When the waitress returns, Quinn orders for them with a smile, correctly guessing that Cyrus is too distracted to say anything without growling it. When the waitress thanks them and walks away again, Cyrus shoots Quinn his most puppy-dog like pout. “Please babe...” he purrs, his voice surprisingly silky despite the usual huskiness. “Let me do something for you while we wait... could pull my chair over and touch you, or go under the table and... amuse myself.” He turns his head to press soft kisses to Quinn’s hand, but doesn’t tear his heated gaze away for even a moment.

Quinn tsks, meeting Cyrus’ intense gaze with amusement. He’s hardly unaffected - how could he be, with the images Cyrus’ words conjure up, and the way each brush of his lips promises delicious pleasure? But Cyrus should know by now that it’s far more fun for him to tease than to give in so easily. “Cyrus, love,” he says softly, leaning in with affection warm in his eyes. Cyrus mirrors him, his breath coming faster and his fingers tightening around Quinn’s. “As fun as that sounds... it is _hardly_ something a good boy would do.”

Quinn darts in for just a soft brush of lips, leaving Cyrus blinking just as the waitress returns with their appetizers. “Oh, thank you so much,” Quinn says, beaming up at her as she places the plates. “It looks wonderful.” He twines his legs with Cyrus’, giving a little squeeze as the waitress leaves again. Quinn picks up a bite-sized slice of bruschetta, holding it up for Cyrus. Cyrus leans in to meet him immediately, eyes dark and hot, and Quinn pulls it back with a coy smile. “Ah-ah, darling, be _good_ . Nice and delicate for me... wouldn’t want to scandalize the other diners.”  
  
“It’s not a _banana_ , I can hardly fellate a _bruschetta_ ,” Cyrus mutters, looking for all the world like he has been deeply betrayed. “...not that I wouldn’t try, of course.” He gives Quinn a fiendish smirk but manages to behave himself, leaning forward to take a delicate bite from the crisp bread. He chews thoughtfully for a moment before leaning forward to bite the rest of the bread, not being able to resist a little slide of his tongue over Quinn’s finger.

Quinn quirks an eyebrow at him, knowing it was just toeing the line between innocent and inappropriate for the public. Cyrus plays oblivious, munching away as he picks up a piece of bruschetta for Quinn. “Absolutely divine,” Cyrus says, feigning a High Elf accent badly enough Quinn can’t help a short chuckle.

Cyrus’ lustful gaze softens, always so weak for Quinn’s melodic laugh. His gaze flicks over Quinn’s easy smile, the amusement bright in his eyes, the way his floral vest fits so snugly over his chest, and can’t help squeezing Quinn’s hand again. “Quinn I... I really love you. So much.” The smile that tugs at Cyrus’ normally cold expression fills Quinn with so much warmth he can feel himself flush, the pink in his cheeks mirrored on Cyrus’ own face. “Just um... wanted to make sure I said that. Since it’s Valentine’s Day. And whatever.” He angles the slice of bruschetta in his hand closer to Quinn, impressively holding his gaze even under the force of his overwhelming affection. There was nothing in the world he loved more than seeing Quinn look at him like that.  
  
“Cyrus...” Quinn breathes, gazing at him with impossible fondness. “I love you too, darling, so very much.” He guides Cyrus’ outstretched hand aside so he can lean in for another kiss, slow and lingering this time, full of all the soft affection he feels in this moment. Hand coming up to cup Cyrus’ cheek, Quinn can’t hold back a smile as he feels uncharacteristic warmth under his palm. He pulls back to drop a kiss on Cyrus’ pinked cheek, then sits back with what is no doubt a besotted smile, lips nearly as flushed as his cheeks after their kiss.

“Better not hold up the dinner, love,” Quinn murmurs after a moment, releasing Cyrus’ hand so he can hold the bruschetta up for him again. He’s daintier about eating it than Cyrus without even trying, but the soft sound of delight he makes as he tastes it is enough for Cyrus to swallow heavily, already holding up another slice for him. “I can’t eat all of this, Cyrus,” Quinn laughs, but dutifully eats it from his fingers nonetheless. He makes sure to offer Cyrus a piece next, though, and they alternate until the last of their appetizer is gone. Their attentive waitress returns to retrieve the plate, promising that entrees will be out shortly. While they wait Quinn can’t keep his eyes off of Cyrus, utterly enchanted by the love that still gentles his expression.

Cyrus tugs Quinn’s hand up again to rest his cheek against it, needing more contact to steady himself under the weight of Quinn’s affection. “Y’know, if someone last year told me I’d be in a stereotypical relationship with some cute half-elf I’d have laughed them out of my bar.” Cyrus’ smile wanes a bit, thinking not so fondly of his past self. “I’m just... really thankful that I met you and that you put up with me. I don’t feel like I deserve it-” He waves away Quinn’s inevitable protest before continuing. “Let me finish babe. I don’t feel like I deserve it, but every day I’m with you I... start to see that I’m actually worth a shit, and I deserve to be treated better than I have been in the past. And that’s more fuckin’ personal growth than I’ve had in thirty-whatever years of my life. You make me a better person and even though that person isn’t _great_ -” He smiles more fully at Quinn’s expression. “- he’s a hell of a lot better than what I was. Thank you.”  
  
“You don’t have to _thank_ me Cyrus, oh my gods...” Quinn’s eyes are glassy with unshed tears, barely able to hold them back after what Cyrus had said and the way he still looks at him, so openly warm. “I never... I never thought I would have something like this ever again, not after... but Cyrus, with you, I’m so happy. Every day... every _moment_ is a gift, and I’m so thankful for every last one.”

Tears slip down his cheeks steadily now, and Quinn laughs through his crying. “Gods, I didn’t mean to cry, love, I’m sorry...” Cyrus makes soft hushing sounds, reaching over to brush away his tears. “I love you _so much_ ,” Quinn manages, and then the waitress slips in to place their entrees - steak for Cyrus, and pasta for Quinn. She bows out quickly, though she does discreetly place some extra napkins on the table for them.

“We should eat before it gets cold,” Quinn says, sniffling and then blowing his nose in a napkin. The smile he gives Cyrus is shaky but sincere, still brimming with affection. “I don’t know what I was thinking, getting you a steak... you’ll need both hands for that.” Quinn squeezes Cyrus’ hand harder while he has the opportunity, preemptively nudging his legs against Cyrus’ so they can still be as close as they can.

Not being able to help himself when Quinn is tearful, Cyrus scoots his chair closer until he can hug his arms around Quinn’s waist, pressing soft, comforting kisses to his damp cheeks. Quinn laughs, voice a little shaky but grateful for Cyrus’ steadying affections.

“I’m sorry love, didn’t mean to make you cry before we’re even in bed,” Cyrus teases, trying to make things light again as best he can. His words coax just a smile from Quinn’s lips and a predictable eye roll, but Cyrus still hums happily at the accomplishment. “You okay babe?” At Quinn’s quick nod Cyrus gives him an assessing look, but nods as well when it’s clear Quinn’s tears are more from being overwhelmed rather than distressed. Cyrus stays in the same spot but pulls his plate over, not minding how often he bumps elbows with Quinn as he tries to cut his steak.

They’re quiet for a few moments as they start to eat, enjoying the comfortable, familiar silence of not needing to speak when nothing must be said. There’s nothing Cyrus hates more than idle chatter, after all. Finally, Cyrus turns slightly to press a kiss to Quinn’s cheek, murmuring a playful “Perfect choice babe, can always count on you for the tough decisions.”

"I just know you well, dear," Quinn says, nuzzling sweetly against Cyrus' cheek. "I mean, would you ever turn down a steak?" Cyrus shrugs with the tiniest hint of a smile, and Quinn laughs. "Yes, that's what I thought."

The both of them are nearly done with their food by now, but Quinn still nudges Cyrus as he's spearing one of his last pieces of steak on his fork. "Save room for dessert, remember," Quinn says, a completely unconvincing look of innocence on his face - well, unconvincing to Cyrus, at least.

He gives a low grumble, narrowing his eyes at Quinn. "Just had to remind me. I was being good."

Quinn snuggles closer against Cyrus' side with a smile, pushing his plate away so the waitress can pick it up. "Yes, you certainly have, love. I wouldn't want you to fill up too soon, is all."  
  
“I’m sure you’d like to fill me up instead,” Cyrus purrs, right as the waitress comes to pick up their plates, of course.

Cyrus clears his throat while Quinn flushes, but the waitress perfectly professionally says, “The fondue will be out in a moment, gentlemen,” before ducking out with the dishes.

As soon as she disappears into the kitchen Quinn nudges Cyrus in the side, earning a low chuckle. “Sorry love, didn’t realize she was there,” Cyrus says, but the amusement glinting in his eye doesn’t make him very believable. Quinn opens his mouth, no doubt to give Cyrus a very terse scolding about what’s appropriate to talk about in public, but is met with the softest, most sensual kiss he’s felt in quite a while. He’s immediately captured by it, letting Cyrus’ lips melt against his and fill him with warm contentment. There’s no lust in the kiss, which is admittedly unusual for Cyrus, and the sweet sincerity of its affection makes Quinn’s heart ache.

Finally, Cyrus pulls away with a quiet, “Really am sorry, love,” just as the waitress returns with the pot of chocolate fondue, setting an array of berries and cakes on a tray nearby. She makes a hasty retreat, but Cyrus catches a sheepish smile on her face as she scampers away. “I think someone thinks we’re cute,” Cyrus hums, picking up a skewer to impale a slice of strawberry. “Maybe we should put on more of a show.”

“We have put on more than enough of a show already,” Quinn huffs, though he can’t stay grumpy for long with Cyrus offering him up the strawberry, already nicely doused in chocolate. Quinn leans forward to daintily bite the treat off the skewer, though even as careful as he is, he can’t escape a bit of dripping chocolate that ends up on his chin.

“Oops,” Cyrus murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss against Quinn’s jaw, tongue flicking out to lap up the chocolate.

His hum of appreciation is far more suited for a bedroom than a dinner table, and Quinn says as much with a hiss of “Cyrus!” even as he flushes at the soft brush of his lips.

“Sorry,” Cyrus says, though he doesn’t look terribly apologetic as he leans back.

Quinn narrows his eyes but takes a skewer of his own, spearing a berry and dipping it, careful to let the excess drip off before he offers it to Cyrus. Perhaps in apology, Cyrus is absolutely angelic as he takes it, even picking up his napkin to delicately dab at his lips when he’s done chewing. Quinn has to laugh at that, and his eyes are still bright and warm with affection as Cyrus offers him another morsel - cake this time. It’s moist and delicious, and Quinn gives a happy hum of his own - though not nearly as pornographic as Cyrus’ had been, of course.

“You make the cutest fuckin’ sounds babe,” Cyrus sighs, quickly offering Quinn another piece of cake before he has the chance to prepare one for Cyrus. Quinn nibbles off the treat again, making that same sweet hum of delight, and can’t help noticing Cyrus’ incredibly heated gaze.

“You’re so close sweetheart,” Quinn cautions him, swirling a piece of cake in the chocolate before pressing it to Cyrus’ lips. “Just be good a while longer and you’ll have earned your treat...”

The mention of the scandalous gifts awaiting them at home makes Cyrus groan, managing to eat the bit of proffered cake but most of the chocolate dribbles over his lips and chin. Quinn sighs at the messiness, picking up a napkin to dab Cyrus clean, but before he gets the chance Cyrus surges forward to capture him in a messy kiss.

He tastes as sweet as the chocolate on his lips, but the kiss itself is raw with his poorly restrained lust. “ _Cyrus_ ,” Quinn scolds him between gasps, finally reaching up to push lightly against his shoulder and signal him to stop.

Cyrus makes an absolutely painful noise but pulls himself back, licking kiss-swollen lips smeared with chocolate. “Babe, I’m fuckin’ weak, I can’t keep waiting,” Cyrus pleads breathily, struggling to keep his voice low so as not to be heard in the quiet restaurant. “You look so... _delicious_ Quinn, and the chocolate just makes it worse and... _fuck_. Please take me home...?” There’s still most of the pot of chocolate left, but Cyrus’ desperate gaze and the almost unconscious way his hands start to roam over Quinn’s clothing and belt make it clear he’s not going to last through the entirety of dessert.

"Shh, sweetheart, it's alright," Quinn hushes, quickly capturing his wandering hands and squeezing tight. Cyrus is still wild-eyed, but at least he's not close to undoing Quinn's belt in the middle of the restaurant for the time being. "Just another few minutes, you can do it." Cyrus makes a soft pleading noise, but thankfully looks mostly put-together when their waitress returns.

"More napkins?" she asks, maintaining an impressively professional expression as her eyes flick over them, no doubt taking in the smeared chocolate and their ruffled clothing.

With another glance at Cyrus, Quinn says, "Just the check, please," with a sheepish smile. She nods and ducks away again, and Quinn turns back to Cyrus. "Let me clean you up, love, okay?" He keeps one hand firmly on Cyrus', slowly releasing the other to grab another clean napkin. Cyrus nods and folds both his hands around Quinn's instead as Quinn starts to wipe at his mouth again. "There you go," he murmurs, leaning in to brush a soft, sweet kiss over his lips that Cyrus meets with a groan.

Quinn keeps it brief even as Cyrus chases after him, Quinn laughing and holding him back with a light touch against his lips. "I forgot you'd gotten me messy too," Quinn laughs, quickly brushing away the bits of chocolate he'd left on Cyrus. He wipes his own face off much more briskly, getting clean in time to take the check from the waitress. "Thank you so much," he says, and she nods with a smile. Quinn leaves enough gold for a hefty tip and then tugs Cyrus to his feet, leading him from the restaurant as smoothly as he can when Cyrus seems determined to plaster himself as close to Quinn as he can get.

"Ah-ah, sweetheart, hands to yourself until we're home," Quinn scolds, pushing Cyrus' wandering hand away as he starts toying with his belt buckle again. "I don't want to take away your lovely reward when you've been good up to now..."  
  
“No, I don’t want that either,” Cyrus sighs, the desperation in his voice clear. “You know how hard I’m trying to be good... I’m actually pretty impressed I didn’t end up blowin’ you in the bathroom.” He smiles, absolutely thrilled with himself, and Quinn can’t resist returning the smile. “The Cyrus of last year definitely would have. At least twice before dessert.”

Quinn shakes his head at that, twining his fingers with Cyrus’ so they don’t wander back to the hem of his pants. The walk home is full of Cyrus’ husky, murmured pleas and the occasional stop for a heated kiss, but even Quinn is surprised when they manage to get back to the flower shop without Cyrus pressing him up against some alley wall for desperate grinding.

As soon as they’re safely inside, though, Quinn predictably finds Cyrus’ heavy weight against his chest, pinning him to the closed door.

“Cyrus-” Quinn starts, all set to scold him, but is cut off by a deep kiss, stealing his breath in moments. He tries to say something around Cyrus’ insistent lips, but it ends up as little more than broken grumbles of his name. Quinn can feel a little smirk against his mouth, Cyrus clearly quite amused with himself, and pushes firmly against his shoulder so he knows he _actually_ needs to stop.

Cyrus sighs as he pulls away, littering Quinn’s neck in delicate kisses instead. “Please Quinn, I can’t wait anymore,” Cyrus rumbles, arms sliding around Quinn’s waist to pull their bodies tight together. His familiar warmth and comforting weight coaxes an affectionate smile from Quinn’s annoyed expression, even as Cyrus’ _very_ prominent length nudges up against his thigh. “Please... I’ll show you how to put on your leather, how does that sound?”

Nearly all of Quinn’s careful poise evaporates, and he flushes, squirming against Cyrus. “Oh, I... that’s... um, yes. Yes, that would be... good.”

Cyrus looks absolutely delighted with his response, no doubt in equal parts by how flustered he is and by the prospect of moving to the bedroom without further ado. Quinn pushes at Cyrus’ chest so he can move away from the door, and Cyrus goes quickly this time, though he’s unwilling to take his arms from around Quinn’s waist. That constant makes a smile pull at Quinn’s lips, giving him a little bit of his balance back. “Come on, love,” Quinn says, leading them towards the bedroom.

Cyrus keeps up a constant stream of excited murmurs, about how hot Quinn’s going to look, how good it’ll feel, how much he loves him... it’s the last that fills Quinn with the most warmth, making him turn to kiss Cyrus again as soon as they’re in the bedroom. He can hear the click of the door closing behind them - Cyrus must have nudged it - and when they break apart, there’s just them and the leather still spread on the bed. Quinn shivers as he glances at it, knowing Cyrus must feel it as a low rumble goes through him a moment after. “All right,” Quinn says, mustering up some bravado. “Show me, then.”

“You’re gonna look so good babe, promise,” Cyrus murmurs, knowing how anxious Quinn probably is. He tries to press soft, soothing kisses to Quinn’s neck, but they quickly turn sloppy and heated, fingers starting to tug at the hem of Quinn’s shirt.

“W-Wait...” Quinn breathes, flushing darker when he feels Cyrus’ soft touch on his skin.

Cyrus immediately drops his hands away, letting them rest on Quinn’s hips instead. “Ah fuck, sorry -” Cyrus starts, belatedly remembering he definitely should have asked before starting to mess with Quinn’s shirt, but Quinn hushes him with a quick “no, it’s okay Cyrus, I just... need a moment.”

Cyrus nods in understanding, his heated expression softening while Quinn squirms indecisively. A soft smile curls Cyrus’ lips, quieting Quinn’s roiling anxiousness with his steady kisses and rumbled encouragement. It doesn’t take long for Cyrus’ familiar warmth to relax Quinn’s muscles again, finally guiding Cyrus’ hands back to the hem of his shirt.

“Can’t teach me how to put on that... harness... if my shirt is on,” Quinn murmurs, shaking his head determinedly even as Cyrus quickly says, “it can go over your shirt babe, I don’t mind!”

Quinn’s hand on Cyrus’ is insistent, letting him drag up the back of his shirt with just a light shiver. “Doin’ so good love,” Cyrus hums encouragingly, taking his time with the buttons on Quinn’s vest while he slowly walks him backwards to the bed. The blush in Quinn’s cheeks is hot against Cyrus’ neck, self-consciously trying to hide his face against Cyrus’ shoulder. Cyrus’ fingers make quick work of the remaining buttons on Quinn’s shirt, carefully easing it off his shoulders with plenty of pausing for gentle kisses until Quinn’s tense muscles relax again. Finally the fabric falls away, Quinn instinctively pressing so tight against Cyrus he nearly has to pry him off.

“Honey, it’s okay, it’s just me, you look perfect,” Cyrus soothes, managing to sit him down on the bed and kneel between his legs. It makes Cyrus’ heart ache to watch his sweet half-elf cross an arm over himself, glancing every which way before finally letting his eyes settle on Cyrus’. “Hey. You’re gorgeous, alright?”

Cyrus’ voice is softer than Quinn’s heard it in quite some time, the gentle tone just making him blush more. “Thank you love...” Quinn murmurs, cradling Cyrus’ jaw in his hand and letting the other drop from his chest. He takes a deep, steadying breath before giving Cyrus a more playful smile. “Weren’t you going to show me how to put on my present?” He reaches over to pick up the leather and dangle it in front of Cyrus’ face.

Cyrus grins up at him before leaning forward to press a light kiss to his thigh, humming, “Don’t you want me in my collar first, love? I’ll be such a good boy for you...”

“I would hope that you’d be good whether you were wearing your collar or not,” Quinn teases, his hand at Cyrus’ jaw drifting up to ruffle his hair.

Cyrus grumbles but looks up at him with pleading eyes, still pressing gentle kisses to Quinn’s thighs. “ _Please_ , Quinn...”

It’s so hard to resist him with such a soft expression on his face, Cyrus’ hands rubbing soothingly at his hips. “Alright,” Quinn says, unable to hold back a smile as Cyrus’ eyes immediately light up. Quinn sets the harness aside again, reaching instead for the collar.

Cyrus watches greedily as his fingers smooth over the leather, carefully undoing the buckle with a soft jingle of metal. “Tilt your head back for me, love,” Quinn says, voice hushed - he doesn’t want to break Cyrus out of the almost dazed excitement he’s in, breath coming quickly and a flush high in his cheeks as he obediently tips his head back. He shivers as Quinn’s hand brushes over his neck, swallowing hard as Quinn lets the leather drag over his skin. Slipping the end through the buckle, Quinn starts to cinch it closed, faltering as Cyrus lets out a low whine. “Okay, love?” he asks, brow creasing with worry, but Cyrus quickly nods.

“Gods yes, _perfect_ ,” he rumbles, a shudder running through him. “Please don’t stop...”

Quinn nods, a flush returning to his own cheeks - he knows that tone, just how Cyrus sounds when he’s so close to coming undone. _Gods, and just from putting him in a collar..._ Quinn tugs the collar snug around Cyrus’ neck - not too snug of course, sliding a couple of fingers underneath the leather to be sure he’ll be able to breathe easily. Satisfied, he tugs the collar straight, fingers lingering at Cyrus’ throat. “There you go, love, you look so gorgeous...” Quinn murmurs, stroking over the edge where the soft leather meets Cyrus’ skin. “How does it feel?”

Cyrus can’t even hope to contain the excited rumbling in his chest, savoring the slide of the leather on his skin. Normally he’d probably ask for the collar to be tighter, but silly Quinn is so insistent on him being able to _breathe_... “Feels fuckin’ amazing, babe,” Cyrus purrs, tilting his head to the side to lean against one of Quinn’s hands. “The collar, and how soft you are with me... you really spoil me, love.” His eyes slip closed under the slow rhythm of Quinn’s fingers tracing the leather, lulled by the grounding familiarity of his touch.

After a few moments, though, Quinn’s light tug on the ring at his throat pulls him quickly back to the task at hand. “What I really want is to make _you_ feel good and gorgeous,” Cyrus rumbles, reaching for the shoulder harness again. “Look at us, gonna match in sexy leather. Don’t tell me you haven’t fantasized about this.” Quinn’s dark blush is all the answer Cyrus needs, provoking a soft chuckle as he arranges the harness properly. “Can’t believe you’ve gone this long without some leather of your own... not much of a dominatrix without it.” Cyrus’ tone is teasing but he still gets an annoyed tug in his hair for the comment - not that he’s surprised, quite aware of how many times Quinn has tried to buy something from the leather shop at the market before getting too embarrassed and having to blush and walk away.

Cyrus apologizes with another light kiss against Quinn’s thigh, tilting the harness in his hands so Quinn can easily slip an arm through. Under Cyrus’ eager encouragement of “just like that sweetheart” and “yup, just turn your head”, Quinn manages to get the harness secure on his body, letting Cyrus loosen a couple of straps so it sits more comfortably on his chest.

When Cyrus is satisfied with the fit, he pulls back slightly so he can take in the whole sight - and his resultant warm blush just makes Quinn flush darker. He has the overwhelming urge to self-consciously curl his arms over his chest, but Cyrus’ quick hands spring up to lace their fingers together and rest their hands on Quinn’s thighs instead.

“Gods... _fuck_ , you look... shit Quinn, I’m speechless,” Cyrus says, voice so awed and reverent it makes Quinn’s chest swell with an unexpected pride. Did he really look _that_ good? “You were _made_ for leather, seriously. Gives you that nice sharp edge that makes you untouchable, while keeping everything that’s soft about you intact - so of course all I wanna do is touch.” Cyrus leans forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to Quinn’s stomach, slowly trailing them up until his lips skim the line where the leather meets the curve of Quinn’s shoulder.

“This what you want, babe?” Cyrus rumbles, that husky lust starting to seep into his voice again. “Licking you like a good dog?” His tongue flicks over Quinn’s nipple briefly before his mouth returns to the leather, humming happily at the resultant hitch of Quinn’s breath. “There’s other places I could lick for you... or maybe you have something else in mind for your naughty dog?” He glances up to gauge Quinn’s expression, checking to be sure he is okay with a little light roleplay.

Quinn smiles, fingers scratching through Cyrus’ hair. “I’m sure I can think of something,” he says, quickly pressing a finger to Cyrus’ lips when he catches a familiar glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “Whatever terrible joke you were about to make, I do not want to hear it,” Quinn adds firmly. No doubt some terrible pun about dogs and bones. Cyrus huffs the tiniest laugh, then slips his tongue out to flick over Quinn’s finger, eyes falling half-lidded as he teases it.

Quinn’s breath goes shaky at the soft, warm strokes of his tongue, but he pulls back after a few moments, rubbing his thumb over Cyrus’ bottom lip instead. “So soft...” Quinn murmurs. “Down now, sweetheart, there’s a good boy...” Light pressure at Cyrus’ head urges him down to Quinn’s lap, Cyrus letting out a pleased rumble as he nuzzles against the hard line of Quinn’s dick through his pants. His hands slide up Quinn’s thighs towards his belt, but Quinn quickly grabs them, pressing their twined fingers against the bed at his sides. “Dogs can’t undo belts,” Quinn says primly, getting a low whine from Cyrus, his fingers flexing against Quinn’s. “Just your mouth, love.”

Eyes intent on Quinn’s, Cyrus nods, his hot breath against Quinn’s dick sending a shiver down his spine. He has half a mind to huffily point out how difficult it is to open a belt with just his mouth, but no doubt he’d just get a little smile and “Dogs can’t talk either, sweetheart” from Quinn in response.

Determined, Cyrus leans forward to press firm kisses to the tent in Quinn’s pants, just teasing with his lips until he feels the warm hands on his tighten insistently. Allowing himself just a slight smirk, Cyrus finally starts working on Quinn’s belt with practiced passes of his tongue and tugs of his teeth. It takes much longer than he’d normally be patient for, but every little one of Quinn’s reflexive jerks and shivers make it all worth it. He’s absolutely captivated by Cyrus’ skill, even as he makes annoyed grumbly noises while struggling to get the last of the belt free from the buckle.

Satisfied with Cyrus’ dutiful work, Quinn frees one of his hands to pet carefully through his hair, smiling at the resultant low rumble in Cyrus’ chest. “Do dogs purr?” Quinn teases, tugging gently in his hair so he can meet Cyrus’ eyes. They’re soft, swirling with lust and an unbridled excitement. _I can’t believe he’s this into his collar...!_ “You’re halfway there sweetheart, be a good boy and finish up for me, won’t you?”

Cyrus hums an affirmative, dropping his head to Quinn’s lap again as soon as he loosens his grip in his hair. With the belt out of the way Cyrus makes quick work of the button and zipper on Quinn’s pants, so fast it makes Quinn’s breath catch. He loops his thumb in the back of Cyrus’ collar, tugging lightly, but even the slight pressure against his throat makes Cyrus moan lowly. “Being a good boy means going slow,” Quinn scolds him, tugging again on the leather to coax another delicious moan from Cyrus. “You can get my dick out, but you can’t touch until I say so, naughty dog.” Cyrus whines at that and glances up with his best pleading eyes, but Quinn is resolute and simply nods toward his lap again.

With Quinn’s orders at the forefront of his mind, Cyrus takes his time with Quinn’s briefs, brushing his lips over the sensitive skin just above the hem. The soft encouragement of “good boy, just like that...” makes Cyrus hum delightedly, finally taking the hem between his teeth and carefully dragging it down off Quinn’s dick. The pleased moan above him almost makes Cyrus lose his resolve and immediately wrap his lips around that glistening dick, but more than anything he wants to be good for Quinn and barely manages to resist. With a shaky breath he starts littering Quinn’s thighs and hips with wet kisses, the hand still trapped in Quinn’s tightening as he struggles to hold himself back. There’s no doubt Quinn can see the tense strain in the muscles of his shoulders, and Cyrus vainly hopes Quinn will be merciful and let him suck him soon.

The eager readiness in every line of Cyrus’ body is absolutely captivating, making each movement radiate the same plea - _let me touch you, let me make you feel good, there’s nothing in the world I want more._ “Such a good, patient boy,” Quinn croons, and even that small bit of praise makes Cyrus shiver, his kisses growing sloppier. He lets out a low whine, nuzzling against the sensitive skin of Quinn’s hip, and Quinn laughs softly even as his dick twitches, a bead of precome dripping down its length. “And good boys get rewarded. Go ahead, love.”

Cyrus’ groan of relief is muffled around Quinn’s dick, already fitting his lips around the head as Quinn finishes speaking. A little breathy but still utterly firm, Quinn says, “Still need to go slow, naughty dog. Don’t make me take your treat away.” He tugs lightly at Cyrus’ hair, getting another low moan for his trouble, the vibrations around his dick making Quinn shudder. Even so, Cyrus pulls back, tongue tracing teasing patterns over the head of Quinn’s dick. He laps delicately at the dripping precome, Quinn letting out a soft sigh of pleasure. “That’s it, so good for me...”

Thrilled with Quinn’s sweet praise, Cyrus goes as slow as he can manage, taking just a bit more of Quinn’s length with each careful bob of his head. He aches to be able to use his hands, to tightly grip Quinn’s thighs and make him moan with his thumbs tracing maddening patterns in the skin, but obeying orders is just _too fuckin’ hot_ to resist.

Instead, Cyrus concentrates on the play of his tongue, lapping lightly at the tip of Quinn’s dick before taking him deeper to tease the underside until his hips start to jump reflexively under the intense sensations. Keeping pace with their needy movements while still keeping himself slow is a difficult task, but Cyrus determinately keeps his deliberate pace up and down Quinn’s length. His hand in Quinn’s starts to flex, needing an outlet for his eager energy as half-lidded eyes watch Quinn’s cool demeanor unravel with each skilled flick of his tongue. Since “dogs can’t talk”, Cyrus pleads with his eyes - _come on babe, let me make you feel good, let go for me…_

Quinn is captivated by the heat in Cyrus’ eyes, rapidly losing his careful control under the practiced strokes of his mouth. “Ah, gods,” he gasps, fingers squeezing tight around Cyrus’ as he wrestles for the last bits of composure he has. “Cyrus, stop.” Cyrus gives a low, disbelieving whine, and Quinn shudders but manages to take Cyrus’ collar in hand, pulling steadily backwards until Cyrus finally releases his dick.

Even the tug of the soft leather against his throat can’t dispel the look of dismay in his eyes, a wordless _why?!_ as clear as if he’d spoken. “Shh, it’s okay, you’ve been so good,” Quinn soothes, petting through Cyrus’ hair again - though that only makes Cyrus look more confused. _If he’d been so good, why would Quinn take away his reward?_ Quinn laughs softly, a familiar spark of amusement underneath his soft affection. “I couldn’t let you make me come yet, love. I wouldn’t be ready to go again in time for you to make love to me.”

His words take a moment to register, but it’s _so_ gratifying when they do - Cyrus lets out a groan, fingers flexing against Quinn’s as he shifts eagerly, eyes hot with excited disbelief. “Patience,” Quinn chides, able to think much more clearly again without Cyrus’ mouth on his dick - though he won’t be much better off after his next direction. “Get me ready for you now, love. Since you’ve already proven how skilled you are with that sweet tongue, I think that’s the perfect way to start.”

Cyrus nods eagerly, even as he struggles to keep himself from immediately coming. It is _such_ a treat, Quinn letting him actually make love to him, and he is nearly overwhelmed with excitement. _Shit, keep it together, if you come you can’t do this,_ Cyrus reminds himself, taking a shaky breath and closing his eyes so Quinn’s affectionate expression doesn’t immediately send him over the edge. A tug at his collar has his eyes snapping open again, though, as he meets Quinn’s hazy gaze with his own.

Cyrus’ breath starting to come more rapidly, he lets his thumbs play gently over the hem of Quinn’s pants, knowing he’s not _supposed_ to use his hands but knowing getting Quinn’s pants down his legs would be impossible without them. “Oh, I suppose you’d like these off then, love?” Quinn coos, batting Cyrus’ hands away but earning a quick nod.

With another firm tug at his collar, Cyrus regretfully pulls away from Quinn’s lap to give him room to stand, albeit shakily - his muscles are still so weak with pleasure, and he doesn’t miss Cyrus’ satisfied smirk as he wobbles just slightly. Rapidly losing the patience for much more teasing - Cyrus is _very_ skilled with his tongue, after all - Quinn slides his slacks off and tosses them over the back of his desk chair. “Can’t have those getting wrinkled too much,” he hums, reaching down to cradle Cyrus’ chin in his hand.

With Quinn standing Cyrus has to stretch up more to be able to be touched, but having Quinn looking down at him with those hot eyes burning with desire is worth any strain. Cyrus blinks a couple times to snap himself out of his enthralled admiration of how fuckin’ _gorgeous_ and _dominating_ Quinn looks in his leather, and tips his head to the side until Quinn gets the hint to lay back. Offering Cyrus one more soft brush of his cheek, Quinn lounges back on the bed with a relieved sigh, sliding backward until he can rest his head on one of the many soft pillows.

While Quinn gets comfortable, Cyrus stands and makes quick work of his own clothes, eager to be free of his stiff formal clothing. He carelessly tosses his jacket and pants on the desk, but waits until Quinn’s warm eyes return to his own before starting to unbutton his shirt. Watching Quinn flush brightly and bite his lip is absolutely _delicious_ , and Cyrus almost wishes he had more buttons to work with, but more than that he’s delighted to finally just be in his collar. He’s tempted to give himself a couple quick strokes to take the edge off, but since Quinn never said he _could_ it’s probably better to wait until he says he’s allowed.

Finally delightfully naked, Cyrus is quick to crawl up after Quinn on the bed, icy blue gaze never leaving Quinn’s as he presses hot kisses up his chest. When he finally meets Quinn’s lips again they both sigh softly, for the moment overcome by the tenderness of the kiss before Cyrus regretfully breaks away. He has a job to do, after all. With another wordless nod to the side and insistent growl, Cyrus convinces Quinn to turn over - even as he chuckles a little at Cyrus’ antics.

Wet kisses trail slowly down Quinn’s spine, pausing at the leather looping his shoulders and making him shiver lightly. _Gods the new leather smells so good,_ Cyrus thinks, starting to really feel the hot lust pooling heavy in his belly as he nuzzles against it. He has the faculties to quickly reach over to the nightstand and snatch the bottle of lube, but his concentration is rapidly dissolving under the weight of Quinn’s sweet encouragement and hitched breathing. Surprising even himself, Cyrus manages to finish kissing a hot line down Quinn’s spine, setting the lube aside on the bed so both hands are free to gently knead his ass. Quinn shudders again, toes curling in anticipation as Cyrus noses his way between his cheeks with a satisfied hum.

“Just like that sweetheart, show me how skilled you are, ah-” Quinn gasps, hips tilting automatically into the careful glide of Cyrus’ tongue. He was far too knowledgeable about all the places that make Quinn squirm, and despite his own insistent arousal he takes his time carefully letting Quinn unravel bit by bit. Quinn moans, back arching into the long, slow strokes of Cyrus’ tongue.

At first he only licks over his hole in broad strokes, teasing flicks of his tongue in between making Quinn gasp. “Ah, love... I know how you love to draw it out, but if you don’t hurry a little I won’t be able to hold on for you to make love to me,” he purrs, fingers clenching in the sheets as Cyrus groans against him. He plunges his tongue inside of him a moment later, Quinn crying out as Cyrus immediately seeks out his most sensitive places. He rocks his hips back into Cyrus’ face, his dick spilling precome where it presses against the sheets. “Gods, yes, just like that love...” Quinn says, glancing back over his shoulder just as Cyrus looks up.

Just meeting his eyes, so much heat in that pure icy blue, makes Quinn shudder, far too close to the edge already. “Fingers now, Cyrus,” he gasps, reaching up to steady himself against the headboard, the leather of his shoulder harness accentuating the flex of his muscles. There’s a delicious tremble running through him, already so saturated with pleasure and eagerly anticipating what’s to come.

Cyrus’ eager tongue stills for a moment, not because he is purposely obeying Quinn’s request but because he is absolutely _struck_ by how incredibly sexy Quinn looks - the light tremble in his body, the way the muscles of his shoulders look straining against the confines of the soft leather, the way he desperately has to clench his hand at the headboard to keep from tipping over the edge under Cyrus’ skillful care. It is almost too much, and for what feels like the hundredth time Cyrus can feel an almost painful curl of heat in his belly that he fights to hold back. _Fingers man, come on, gotta make Quinn happy_ , Cyrus reminds himself, fumbling for the bottle of lube he’d set beside them on the bed.

His own body is shaking with excitement, almost not coordinated enough to get the stopper off the bottle. After a plethora of muttered curses, he finally manages to get his fingers generously coated in lube. Pleased with his triumph, Cyrus presses a soft kiss to the base of Quinn’s spine while a slick finger circles his hole, finally pressing in with a low rumble of satisfaction.

Quinn’s answering moan is just as sweet, urging him on with breathy whines of “please, Cyrus” and “that’s perfect, such a good boy”. With Quinn already so relaxed from Cyrus’ tongue, it doesn’t take long for a second finger pressed against his rim to easily slip inside, provoking a ragged moan from the both of them. Cyrus’ body aches to go much quicker, but a significantly stronger part of him can’t even begin to conceptualize accidentally hurting Quinn, and he takes his time pressing deep and scissoring his fingers before even thinking of adding a third. Quinn is so saturated with pleasure and anticipation he can’t do more than moan when he feels the third finger breach him, hips rocking back slightly on the pressure until his muscles relax again.

“Ah, gods, Cyrus my love, I need you,” Quinn manages between gasps, looking over his shoulder again to meet Cyrus’ hazy eyes. Cyrus rumbles a reply, but it’s too low to be understood - not that Quinn is really processing his words anyway. Cyrus regretfully pulls his fingers from Quinn’s body before shifting to press his chest to the hot, sweaty skin of Quinn’s back, not missing the light shiver that courses through him. The leather of the harness is a little rough against Cyrus’ sensitive nerves, but it only ramps his excitement higher and higher as Quinn’s trembling rubs it against him. He has the strongest urge to make some crude joke about “doggy style”, letting his collar brush against Quinn’s neck to accentuate his point, but decides to save it for the afterglow instead - after all, he could barely concentrate to begin with.  

After a sloppy kiss against Quinn’s shoulder, Cyrus carefully shifts himself into position, pressing forward as gently as he can even as Quinn’s body eagerly accepts him in. Quinn’s hand clenches against the headboard as he’s stretched, overwhelmed by the delicious pressure of Cyrus’ thickness, but is relieved to feel Cyrus hand twining with his to ground him again. “Gods, you feel so good, love,” Cyrus rumbles, surprisingly intelligible while nuzzling into the crook of Quinn’s neck. “Making love to you is so... gods Quinn, being with you like this makes me warm like I’ve never been before you.”

“ _Cyrus_ ,” Quinn gasps, shaking against him with the force of his emotion. “Oh gods... I feel it too, every part of me so full of love for you...” He shudders, desperately trying to hold himself back from coming. “I want this to last forever, love.” Cyrus groans against his neck, fingers squeezing tight around Quinn’s. “Cyrus, make love to me... I need you, let me feel how much you need me.”

Cyrus rumbles his assent, carefully drawing back - though he still presses as close as he possibly can as he shifts his hips - before rocking forward again. Quinn moans, a sound of total rapture that Cyrus _needs_ to hear again even as he fights off his own climax. He shifts into a slow rhythm, pressing hot licks and kisses to Quinn’s neck in between mumbled praise and affection. Every word and movement makes Quinn shiver with delirious pleasure, but he still needs _more_ , so desperate for all of Cyrus.

“Love, let me turn over,” he finally manages between gasps, looking over his shoulder with hazy eyes. “I’m _so_ close, but I need to see you, need to kiss you...” The love in Quinn’s eyes is nearly his undoing, but Cyrus manages a jerky nod, carefully pulling out to let Quinn turn over.

Arms sliding over Cyrus’ shoulders and legs slipping over his hips, Quinn presses close, a soft sound of pleasure escaping him as his dick rubs against Cyrus’ stomach. He coaxes Cyrus down and moans into his mouth as their lips meet, indulging in a deep kiss. “Now, Cyrus,” Quinn says, eyes intent on Cyrus’ as he lines up again, forcing himself to keep watching Cyrus’ face as he presses in.

The sweet devotion he sees sends warmth through his entire body, and he meets Cyrus’ thrusts with instinctive rolls of his own hips to keep them as close as they can possibly be. “Oh gods, Cyrus,” Quinn moans, eyes starting to flutter shut in spite of his best efforts. “Cyrus, I love you, I love you _so much_ -” With a loud cry, Quinn tenses and spills over their stomachs, shaking with each rock of Cyrus’ hips that coaxes another wave of pleasure from him. “Cyrus, come with me, just like this...” Quinn gasps, wanting nothing more in this moment than to feel his love’s pleasure along with his own.

The moment he has Quinn’s permission, Cyrus can feel his muscles tensing sharply then falling slack in warm relief as he spills inside, positive the raw ecstasy and overwhelming affection makes his heart stop for a long moment. “Shit, Quinn, _gods_ I love you so fuckin’ much,” Cyrus gasps, skin almost uncomfortably hot as he tries to pull Quinn closer but is simply unable to make himself pull away. Burning to death under his love’s warm pleasure was certainly a way to go. “Quinn... you really spoil me, love.” Cyrus’ voice is soft, even with the tired huskiness.  

The hand not laced with Quinn’s skims over the leather harness before cradling Quinn’s cheek, tipping his head up slightly for a lazy kiss. The strength of the affection in it makes Quinn tear up, always overwhelmed when his normally stoic Cyrus actually shows such a strong emotion like this. Quinn’s free hand reaches up to pet through the sweaty mess of Cyrus’ hair, smiling drowsily when he rumbles in approval. Too exhausted to even make his usual ribald jokes, Cyrus breaks their sensual kiss to nuzzle into Quinn’s neck, letting his weight settle fully on Quinn’s chest.

He gets an amused huff in response as the heaviness threatens to squeeze the breath from Quinn’s lungs, but stubbornly squeezes his hand and cuddles closer to prolong the soft afterglow. “Please love, just a little longer and I promise I’ll stop crushing you. I just... I _need_ this.”

The sincerity in Cyrus’ tone makes Quinn pause, nodding as his soft fingers massage over Cyrus’ trembling shoulders. He wasn’t going to... _cry_ , was he? Just as the thought occurs to Quinn he feels a couple warm drops on his shoulder, reflexively holding Cyrus tighter as he draws in a shaky breath. Cyrus is quick to grab a handful of the sheets and press them against his face, grumbling, “Fuck, sorry, you know I’m really bad at this... still not used to what this feels like. What it’s _supposed_ to feel like.”

"Shh, sweetheart, there's nothing to apologize for," Quinn soothes, tears slipping down his own cheeks as he strokes Cyrus' back. "I love that I can make you feel this way... that you make me feel this way too. Gods, I just love you so much." He nudges Cyrus up from his place against Quinn's shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, then to the still-damp tear tracks on his cheeks. "Just kiss me, my love, and let yourself feel it," Quinn murmurs, slipping into the familiar rhythm of their slow kisses yet again.

They kiss for long minutes, breath hitching as they both grow oversensitive, but not wanting to pull away for anything. Finally, though, Quinn can’t hold back a quiet noise of discomfort, and Cyrus pulls back to look at him, brow furrowed in concern. Quinn smiles up at him reassuringly, but it falters as Cyrus shifts above him. "Ah... I'm sorry, love. I'm just a little sensitive."

“Shit, right, sorry,” Cyrus fusses, carefully levering himself up on shaky arms and leaning back to ease from Quinn’s body. They both shudder at the feeling but quickly press close again, reassured by each other’s familiar warmth. Cyrus is quiet for a while, just idly running his fingers over the soft leather of the harness while he’s lost in thought, before finally pressing a kiss to Quinn’s temple. “I know you don’t like being slick with come as much as I do. How about a bath?”

Cyrus’ tone is light but he’s clearly distracted, gaze faraway even as his fingers deftly start undoing the straps of Quinn’s leather. “Clean you right up like you love and use all those smelly soaps you like. How’s that sound?” He reaches for Quinn’s glasses where they’d been set on the nightstand, safely out of the fray, and expertly fits them back on Quinn’s face. He smiles tiredly while Quinn blinks up at him in surprise, dropping a quick kiss on his nose before finally undoing the rest of the straps. Cyrus is relieved to find the exorbitant amount of money he paid for the leather was worth the investment - they didn’t leave a single mark on Quinn’s skin, just as he prefers.

“That sounds lovely,” Quinn says, smiling as Cyrus rubs over the skin that the leather straps had hidden. He sits up with a soft groan as he stretches his tired muscles, steadying himself on Cyrus’ shoulder. Quinn grimaces as he feels the unpleasant wetness of come dripping from him, quickly assuring Cyrus that “I’m fine, love, I promise. Just need that bath.” He drops a kiss on Cyrus’ cheek, then takes Cyrus’ hand and stands.

“I could have started the water for you,” Cyrus protests, but Quinn just squeezes his hand with a smile.

“Don’t want to let go of you,” he says, tugging at Cyrus’ hand to lead him to the bathroom. “We’ll go together.”

Cyrus grumbles but can’t argue, content to have Quinn lean on him after he starts filling the bathtub.

Quinn catches Cyrus’ look of distaste as he glances towards the rising water, laughing softly. “I know you don’t enjoy this, but it means so much that you’d do it for me,” Quinn says, kissing him sweetly. He falls into the familiar rhythm of it far too easily, pulling away with a yelp to stop the water just before it’s too full.

“Here, you get in first so you can wrap your arms around me,” Quinn says, then frowns. “Oh, wait, love - this really shouldn’t be in the water.” He traces his fingers over the collar at Cyrus’ neck, thoroughly enjoying Cyrus’ low rumble in response even if he’s nowhere near ready to go again. “It suits you so well I nearly forgot.” He sighs regretfully as he works the buckle free, carefully setting the collar out of splashing range. “I’m sorry, dear. You’ll have it back once we’re clean, but we really shouldn’t ruin it already.”

Cyrus nods grudgingly and steps into the warm bath, grimacing as he settles into the water. Quinn is quick to follow him, sitting down in front of him and snuggling back against his chest with a contented sigh. Predictably, Cyrus’ arms squeeze around him as soon as he’s in place, and Quinn tips his head back onto Cyrus’ shoulder with a smile. “Thank you, love, this is perfect. Though I believe I was promised smelly soaps...”

“You and your smelly soaps,” Cyrus grumbles, turning his head to nibble carefully along Quinn’s neck. He knows Quinn has no patience for marks, but how can Cyrus be expected to resist a little nip here and there when Quinn’s neck is so perfectly exposed?

Quinn hums in warning when Cyrus starts to get a little too rough, but sighs in pleasure when the nibbles turn to apologetic licks and kisses instead. It doesn’t take long, though, for Quinn to realize the sensual brushes of Cyrus’ lips are merely a distraction meant to make Quinn forget about his expensive soaps - but Quinn is not in a mood to be swayed. Too tired to chastise Cyrus as he usually would have, Quinn simply turns his head to the side slightly to meet Cyrus’ insistent lips.

“Mmm... that’s perfect love,” Quinn purrs, letting his pleasure show in the easy way his body melts against Cyrus’ chest. “You take such good care of me... always get me so clean like a love, and tolerate my soaps... we should use the one Sadzhik gave me for my birthday.” Quinn blinks up at Cyrus innocently, fully aware of how guilty his words were starting to make Cyrus feel. Cyrus lets out a heavy sigh, knowing he’s been played by Quinn’s sweetness but far too tired to be a stubborn ass about it.

Careful not to jostle Quinn too much, Cyrus reaches over to the shelf beside the tub to unbox the soap Sadzhik had gifted - he doesn’t even have to ask which one it is, easily able to guess by the immaculate packaging and expensive-looking golden ribbon. The bar of soap is silky in his hands but he barely manages to hold back his groan - _stupid expensive shit._ With the soap in hand, he dunks it quick in the warm water before starting to lather Quinn’s chest, paying special attention to the spots he knows the harness must have rubbed.

Quinn’s content hum is absolutely hypnotic, and it doesn’t take Cyrus long before he’s lost in the slow rhythm of brushing soap down his arms, up his arms, over his shoulders and chest, then down his arms again. Quinn is captured by the pattern too, dozing lightly on Cyrus’ shoulder until his hand finally ventures lower, carefully scrubbing Quinn’s belly and thighs clean. His voice husky with exhaustion, Cyrus murmurs quiet reassurance as a finger nudges between Quinn’s cheeks, wanting to be quick about it without making it hurt. “Know how much you hate being messy babe, I’ll getcha good as new in just a sec...”

“Ah... thank you, my love,” Quinn murmurs, shifting to give Cyrus more room. He makes a soft sound as Cyrus’ finger eases inside of him, each motion smooth and careful. Quinn is still sensitive but not painfully so, letting out quiet sighs as Cyrus cleans him, the gentle care letting him relax against Cyrus’ chest.

Soon Cyrus withdraws his finger with a kiss on Quinn’s cheek. “All done,” Cyrus rumbles, stroking Quinn’s thighs. “Ready to get out now babe? Get you all dry, bundled up in some nice warm blankets for snuggling...”

Quinn hums happily at the image Cyrus’ words conjure, but shakes his head. “You’re not clean yet, love,” he says sweetly, laughing softly at Cyrus’ resulting grumble. “Just a quick scrub. Here, we can use a different soap too.” Quinn reaches over for another bar, holding it up for Cyrus to sniff. He gives a grudging nod at the sharp, woodsy smell of it, letting Quinn turn and lather his hands but stubbornly keeping his arms looped around his waist. Quinn rubs his soapy hands over the muscles of Cyrus’ chest, lingering a little in his appreciation but still managing a fast, methodical cleaning.

“There we go, both of us nice and clean now,” Quinn says, leaning down to press a kiss to Cyrus’ lips. He’s still grumbling a bit but returns the kiss happily, drawing Quinn into a lazy rhythm before he finally makes himself pull away. “Water’s getting cold,” Quinn says regretfully. “How about you dry us off and then we can cuddle in bed where it’s warm, love?”

“You have no idea how happy I’ll be to leave this tub,” Cyrus grumbles, giving Quinn another quick kiss before levering himself out of the cool water. As soon as Quinn manages to get himself out of the tub too, struggling a bit with how wholly relaxed his muscles are, Cyrus meets him with one of his fluffy towels. A soft purr of contentment escapes Quinn’s lips as he’s carefully patted dry, not being able to help smiling a little as he watches Cyrus’ face of utter concentration.

When he’s satisfied Quinn is adequately dry, Cyrus wraps him up tightly in the towel before retrieving one for himself too. He’s much quicker to dry himself off, eager to be dry as soon as possible, and playfully wraps his towel around Quinn as well when he’s finished. Quinn’s answering huff makes him smile softly, hugging Quinn close while he walks him to the bedroom.

“Let’s get you comfy, love,” Cyrus murmurs, pulling away to dig some loose black pajamas from his dresser. As soon as he nudges the towel off Quinn’s body he tugs the shirt over his head, guiding his arms through the sleeves when it seems like Quinn’s tired muscles simply do not want to cooperate.

His arms loop around Cyrus’ neck to steady himself as he steps into the soft pants, chuckling quietly when he realizes how big they are. “These are _yours_ , silly,” Quinn says as Cyrus tugs them up to his hips.

“Oh, are they?” Cyrus hums, though the bright amusement in his eyes makes it clear he’s quite aware. Once Quinn is dressed, he falls rather ungracefully on the bed, quickly followed by Cyrus beside him - enough sudden weight to make the bed creak dangerously. Cyrus smiles at that but is fortunately way too tired to get turned on by it, merely cuddling against Quinn’s side as he starts to doze off.

“Thanks for today, love,” Cyrus purrs, more content joy in his voice than Quinn has heard in a while. “It means so much to me... it’s hard, y’know, recovering from... all my bad habits, but being with you...” He pauses to press a sweet kiss to Quinn’s lips. “...being with you makes me want to get better. To give you all the love you deserve. Which is a lot.”

“Oh, Cyrus...” Quinn says, tearing up a little again at the sincere sweetness in his voice. “I want to give you all the love you deserve too - which is also a lot.” He makes the effort to snuggle closer against Cyrus, giving him another soft, sleepy kiss. “You’re so good to me, love, you make me so happy...”

Quinn’s drowsy, affectionate kisses slow as he starts to drift to sleep, hurried along by Cyrus’ hand stroking through his hair. Quinn makes the cutest little sound of happiness at that, cuddling into Cyrus’ arms and making him smile fondly. Cyrus reaches down to tug the blankets over them, careful not to disturb Quinn but not wanting him to get cold later, before he wraps his arms around his sweetly slumbering boy. He watches the soft, happy expression Quinn has for as long as he can before Cyrus too falls asleep, comforted by Quinn’s warmth against him.


End file.
